


Technicalities

by lureavi



Series: Cohabitors and Co-conspirators [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Haha that's not foreshadowing you're crazy, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Its a Silly AU tbh, Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Lance has a car named Lightning McClain, Lightning McClain is doing her best, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pidge and Keith are troublemakers, Shiro and Matt are Adults TM, Slow Burn, The younger ones are in high school, for everyone, so far at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 13:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lureavi/pseuds/lureavi
Summary: (Sequel to The First Encounter)Pidge and Keith don't exactly have the most experience with friendship. Or anything more than friendship, for that matter. It's going to take a bit of trial and error to make the right connections with their new group. Matt and Shiro are just doing their best to keep up, with the kids and with each other. The saga of shenanigans really begins.





	Technicalities

**Author's Note:**

> It’s the day after where The First Encounter leaves off, and even though Keith is grounded, that’s not going to stop him from sneaking out to see Lance.  
> And vandalize a bridge.
> 
> The shenanigans begin!! Starting off with these two dorks :D  
> Also? Be prepared for nearly every single chapter to have an awful pun/bad joke as the title.

Keith’s phone pinged, and for a brief minute he simply stared at the notification rather than checking the message.

An unknown number?

His curiosity got the best of him.

_ Unknown: Hey, its Lance, how much trouble did you 2 get into with the double dads? _

Oh. That was right. They’d exchanged numbers. Or rather, Lance made Keith enter his number into the other’s phone at some point before a  _ certain someone _ barged in with a fire extinguisher and wrought havoc. Keith swore there was still gunk in his hair from the incident. He added Lance to his contacts before tapping out a response,

_ To Lance: No TV or ghost hunts for two weeks, and you’re not allowed over without permission and one of the dads home :P _

His face grew warm as he decided against bringing up the ‘open doors with Lance around’ stipulation.

_ Lance: So its prolly a real bad idea to ask you to hang out? _

Keith considered it. On one hand, he was already in trouble... But, on the other hand? His phone pinged again.

_ Lance: thats code for help me graffiti a bridge btw _

That sounded… Like something he didn’t want to miss out on, actually. He smiled stupidly at his phone, thumbs dancing over the screen as he thought of a reply.

Pidge quirked an eyebrow at him, taking notice of the small series of pings and her not-brother’s goofy expression, “you texting Cinderella over there?”

His thumbs stopped, a potential reply falling out of his mind with the interruption. “Cinderella?” He repeated, near instantly regretting having asked.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, as if there were no need for explanation, “you meet in the dark, not knowing who the other person is, you hit it off, then the mystery girl, or in this case Lance, loses a foot running away. Then one of you gets grounded for life and you’re still basically strangers but you’re also still gay for each other. Poof!” She waved her hands with her fingers splayed, “Cinderella.”

Keith stared at her, blinking and struggling to comprehend. “What the fuck version of that story did you hear?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she gave a dismissive wave turning back to her laptop, “so, are you gonna sneak out to see him or what?”

“I mean… Maybe. I kinda want to see him again, but we’re already grounded. I don’t really want to piss off mom and dad even more,” he grumbled, still staring at his messages and trying to remember his previous train of thought.

“What if I distract them for you?”

Keith narrowed his eyes, unwilling to believe she would make the offer without an ulterior motive, “what’s in it for you?”

Pidge flashed a wicked grin, eyes lighting up beneath her glasses, “you finally teach me how to drive a motorcycle.”

Though the offer wasn’t as bold as he was expecting, Keith still wasn’t about to let his little green-bean of a sister on a motorcycle alone. He let out a harsh breath, “no deal. Pick something else.”

Pidge let out a disappointed whine. She had figured that wasn’t going to fly. But that’s how to bargain, right? Ask for far too much right out of the gate and then lower it to what you really want. Matt had taught her that. “Will you get my Xbox off the shelf Shiro put it on? I can’t reach it, even with the stepladder.”

Keith held back a smirk, knowing laughing at the bargain wouldn’t go in his favor, and he wasn't about to turn down something that easy. "Deal.”

_ To Lance: Park down the street. I’m sneaking out. _

_ Lance: Seriously??? Fuck yea, I can be there in like 10 minutes _

“You better have a good distraction in mind,” Keith said pointedly, scrambling to grab for his jacket and check over his hair in the attic mirror, “deal is off if I get caught.”

Pidge rolled her eyes at him, “it’s Saturday night. Matt and Shiro are just going to watching Netflix until they pass out on the couch, all I have to do is keep their eyes off the door for five minutes and you’re golden.”

* * *

“What you do on your own time is your business. That’s fine. But I don’t want to see it,” Matt insisted, his nose crinkling while he frowned at Shiro. “It’s not natural, and frankly? I don’t think I want my kids seeing it either.”

Shiro scoffed, “are you serious right now? It’s a cheese stick,” he waved the cheese stick in Matt’s face, making the other man lean back a few inches, “I’m eating a cheese stick.”

Matt pushed the arm away, “and you’re biting it! You’re supposed to  _ peel them. _ ” He recoiled and covered his eyes as Shiro took another bite, “UGH! That’s so wrong, I can't believe you're making me watch this, this is domestic abuse!”

“Do you really want to have this argument right now?” Shiro didn’t even both to finish chewing as he spoke. He did quite the opposite, jamming the rest of the cheese stick in his mouth, mostly because he knew how much it bothered Matt when someone talked with their mouth full, “don’t think I didn’t see you pour the milk in your bowl before the cereal this morning. If you want to talk about wrong, that’s it right there.”

“You wound me, Kashi,” Matt gasped, smacking a hand over his heart, “how could you? I even gave you some of the marshmallow charms!”

With as strong as sigh as she could manage silently, Pidge shook her head, “I can’t believe this,” she murmured. Her end of the bargain seemed to be easier than expected. She was still hiding just around the corner. Shiro and Matt were distracting themselves well enough without her influence, apparently.

Keith paid no attention to any of it, taking his first opportunity to slip out the living room window. He was no rookie at this, and knew full well the doorbell had a camera on it. That, and the door itself opening and closing would be loud enough for his older brothers to hear from the kitchen they were mock-arguing in.

As soon as his shoes hit the grass, he froze, crouched to the ground and listening for any sign he’d been spotted.

Though muffled, he heard the unmistakable sound of Matt shrieking. That was… a good sign? He would take it as a good sign, and all the encouragement he needed to sprint through the neighboring yards, well versed in which bushes and trees to weave between to avoid getting caught in street lights or the line of sight of windows. He leaned against the stop sign at the end of the road, catching his breath in the few minutes it took for a beat up blue PT cruiser to roll to a stop beside him.

Lance leaned across the center of the car to fling the door open with a rusty squeal. “Hey, hop in!” he half whispered, half yelled.

Keith hauled inside, struggling for a moment to get the old door closed. “Man, your car is older than you are,” he grunted as he finally managed to slam the hunk of metal shut.

Lance glared out of the side of his eyes at Keith. He was well aware of how run-down his car was, but it was his, and he loved it thank you very much. “Hey. Don’t insult Lightning McClain. She’s doing her best.”

“You named your car… Lightning McQueen?”

“No, I named my car Lightning _McClain_.” When the clarification didn’t change the confusion on the other’s face, Lance realized he had forgotten a rather crucial piece of information. “My last name is McClain, you know.”

Even with all the information, Keith couldn’t fathom a reasonable response, choosing instead to silently buckle himself in. He was still undecided on whether “Lightning  _ McClain _ ” was better or worse. He was leaning towards worse.

Feeling the judgement the other was aiming towards him, Lance attempted to change the subject to a more pressing matter, “I must have made a pretty big impression on you if you’re willing to sneak out of the house and vandalize a bridge with me before even knowing my name,” he teased.

Keith shrugged, turning towards the window in case his face was as pink as it felt, “don’t flatter yourself. I had nothing better to do. Grounded, remember?” He watched as the car turned onto a rough back road, a curtain of black encapsulating everywhere the headlights didn’t illuminate, “so...Where exactly are we going?”

“Yeah, you know, you should have asked me that too,” Lance pointed out, wagging a cautionary finger to his passenger, “what if I’m not even taking you somewhere cool to paint? What if I’m actually just going to murder you in the woods? You should be more careful with who you trust.”

“Bold of you to assume you could take me in a fight,” Keith snorted. He lowered his voice and squinted deviously at the other, “besides, maybe I only agreed to come along so I could murder you in the woods.”

“Dude, I’ve gotta say, this is gonna be pretty awkward if we’re both just here to kill each other,” Lance stole another glance at him, continuing to do so every chance he had, “but really, we’re going to that highway bridge over the water. It’s got a ton of graffiti already on it, but I scoped out a free space we can paint on.”

Keith shot him an incredulous look, “we? I have no idea how to even use spray paint,” he admitted. He figured going on this little adventure would more involve being a lookout, or a witness. Well, actually, he had thought very little about what it would entail beyond spending more time with this disaster of a boy he had met.

“Then I’ll just have to teach you,” Lance insisted, brushing off the comment, “it’s not hard. You’ll like it. We’re only a few minutes away, can you grab the duffel bag of paints in the back seat?”

Though not without a grumbling, halfhearted complaint, Keith reached for the bag, having to unbuckle himself to climb over the midsection of the car as it rolled to a stop at a red light.

The car lurched forward as the light turned green, and Keith found himself shoved nearly entirely into the back of the car. “Watch it!” he shrieked.

“Sorry!” Lance snickered, completely insincere as he watched Keith try to unjam himself from the area between the two front seats, “not used to driving with a broken foot, hit the gas too hard.”

Keith finally managed to drag himself and the duffel bag full of clanking cans to the front seat, muttering several curses under his breath and sitting himself back down with a huff, “you’re driving with a broken foot?!”

Lance shrugged, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he squinted at the road, searching for the turn he planned on making, “that stuff doesn’t heal overnight, dude. Oh! There it is! We’re here!” He chirped, veering the car sharply off the road, down the adjacent hill through a gap in the gnarled guardrails where a previous car must have smashed through.

Keith didn’t even have time to scream as they went off the road. He panicked, first clutching to his seat, then scrambling for the seatbelt, for the handle on the roof, for anything that could provide some sort of protection against what was surely going to be his untimely death. He lost his stomach as the car rushed down the slope, towards what appeared to be a lake in the bouncing headlights that flashed every which way with the bumps the car hit on its makeshift trail. This was it, he thought. This was the end, he was going to drown in this lake, stuck in this metal deathtrap of a car. Just as his life started to flash before his eyes, the car swung around into a screeching halt, several feet from the water.

Lance beamed at him from the driver’s seat, “shortcut!”

Chest heaving and eyes blinking in shock, Keith took a moment to collect himself. Realizing the off-roading had been intentional was more frightening than the thought of it being an accident. He glared at the other, speaking through gritted teeth, “You are. The. WORST. DRIVER. I have ever seen.” Upon further examination, the ‘lake’ they had been hurtling towards was no more than a harmless creek, but he still stood by his statement. A little warning or anything would have been nice.

“Don’t be a dick, we’re here in one piece! Come on!” He flung open the car door with an immense amount of force, only cringing slightly at the groaning creak of metal, “grab the paint!” he called over his shoulder, making his way to the concrete bridge about a hundred yards in front of them, part of a highway that passed over the creek.

Keith noticed the bulky boot Lance wore on his right foot, and was both impressed and horrified that he had actually driven with it on. He remained seated, looking up to the paint-stained grey roof of the car and taking a few deep breaths to try and slow his still racing heart from what he would later insist to have been a near-death experience. After another moment of disbelief, he pried open the door and half-dragged the duffel bag across rough, rock filled sand. It was well into the night by now, the moon high in a rather cloudless sky, with stars much brighter out here than they were closer to the city. Their reflection in the slow moving creek was rather pretty, he thought. Part of him almost wanted to kick off his shoes, and walk barefoot in the smoother sand close to the water. He shook off the thought, knowing it probably not the best idea to dwell in a place they were about to vandalize, but... He kept the idea in mind for another time.

Lance was waiting for him in front of the lone bare spot on the graffiti covered canvas of a bridge support, staring thoughtfully at the smooth grey. The rattling of metal cans broke him out of his daze, “good spot, right?”

“It’s okay,” Keith grumbled, not willing to admit that the creek and the surrounding small beach was actually rather picturesque when he wasn’t hurtling towards it at 60 miles per hour in a metal deathtrap, “what are we painting?”

“I thought you could decide, actually,” Lance smiled.

“I… I don’t even know how to paint,” Keith dropped the duffel bag between them, staring at the rainbow of colors splotching it, “how do you want me to decide WHAT to paint?”

“It’s not hard, I mean. I just paint things I like, or things I love to look at,” Lance explained, recalling his last few projects, “like the ocean, or sunsets. What do you like?”

“Not much,” Keith admitted, mouth pressed into a thin line.

Lance let out a heaving sigh, “okay mister cold and distant, you have to like something.”

Keith held up his palms and shrugged, “I don’t know, the only thing I’ve ever drawn is cryptids... What about the Loch Ness monster?” He quietly suggested.

The corners of Lance’s mouth twitched up, “The Loch Ness monster? You want to paint Nessie? The absolute first thing you can think of, when asked what you like. Is cryptids, and the Loch Ness monster.”

Well aware of the judgement in the other’s smirk, Keith punched him in the shoulder and sent him back a few inches, “don’t ask me questions if you don’t want to hear the answer, asshole.”

“Ow! Easy, there,” he dramatically rubbed his shoulder, pretending to be much more hurt than he was, “we can paint Nessie. Grab a can of paint, whatever color you want.”

Keith stooped down to rifle through the bag, mulling over his options before grabbing a dark teal. He held it out to Lance, who only pushed it back toward him.

“Nope, you’re going to start,” Lance insisted, holding his hands up and away from the can.

“What?! I don’t know how! I told you that like ten times already,” he complained, staring at the can with uncertainty, “there’s not even a spray thing on it!”

“Alright, alright, fine. Let’s switch gears.” Lance paused, resting his head in his hand as he looked to the bag of paints. “Put that can back, and grab your favorite color.”

With a loud sigh, Keith dropped the teal back into the bag, and fished out a bright, cherry red, “okay, now what?”

“Red? Figures you’d be a red kind of guy,” Lance scoffed as he grabbed a paint can of his own: a vibrant, cobalt blue.

Keith raised an eyebrow, idly shaking the can of paint, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you know, red and blue? They always...” His words trailed off with the other’s confused expression, “nevermind. Anyways, I’m going to teach you. We’ll just start with your name. You can spell your own name, right?”

Keith fought the urge to hit him with the can of paint, or maybe spray his jacket, “you know, you’re kind of a dick.”

“Yeah, well, you started it. Anyways, first things first is caps. The little nozzle part of the can. There’s skinny caps and fat caps. For the size of the lines you’re trying to make,” he explained, inspecting the can in Keith’s hand, “that can’s got a fat cap on it so we’re just going to roll with that. Now, hold your arm out like you’re ready to paint!”

“Like this…?” Keith asked, holding his arm just below perpendicular, the can tilted upwards just an inch from the concrete.

“Uhh… Not quite. Here,” Lance stepped behind him, lightly grabbing onto Keith’s wrist and angling his arm upwards, and his hand downwards, “angle the can flat for a kinda soft, blurred line. And if you angle the can down, you’re going to get thinner, more precise lines.” He put his other hand on Keith’s side, shuffling them both backwards a few inches, “and you need to be a little further away, or the paint will drip. Okay?”

Though he flinched at the first touch, Keith resigned to letting himself be positioned. This was just teaching, nothing more, he assured himself. His face burned to the tips of his ears regardless. “O-Okay. So, now what?”

“Well, Keith starts with a K, right?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Alright, so, we want to outline the letter first. So we’re going to want a precise line, which means angle the can downwards,” as he spoke, he fit his hand over Keith’s, guiding him through the motion, “I’ll help you, because I already know how fast you need to go with this paint to avoid drips, alright? Put your finger on the cap,” he instructed, then placed his own finger atop Keith’s.

Keith followed each instruction, letting Lance take control of his arm and spray the paint down in a slightly rounded line, then another parallel to it, then two smaller ones connecting the top and bottom parts. He let his arm go nearly limp as he watched, entranced as Lance guided him through outlining his full name in rounded off, blocky letters. By the end, he swore he was flushing as dark as each swooping curve of paint.

“See? It’s not hard,” Lance smiled, backing away from Keith and letting go of his hand, “alright, now you can fill the letters in with the red, and you can hold the can straighter since you don’t need sharp lines. Got it?”

After blinking away his stupor, Keith nodded, “y-yeah, got it,” he mumbled, doing his best to fill in the letters and remember what speed Lance had been painting at. By the second letter, he had gotten the timing down well enough to avoid any drips, “okay… now what?”

Lance tossed him the can of blue paint, “Now, put a blue border on the letters! The blue can already has a skinny cap on it, you should be able to do it alright.”

“I’ll give it a shot…” Keith shook the can a good few times, and angled it down, trying his best to outline the first letter. It was a little drippy, a little skewed, but improved with each swipe. The last letter was far from perfect, but… He was still rather proud of it.

Lance went over a few parts with a lighter, more pinkish red, each motion quick, effortless and practiced as he finished off with a few touches in white paint. He took a few steps backwards, standing shoulder to shoulder with Keith, “there. Was that so bad?”

“No,” Keith admitted, rummaging through his pockets for his phone to snap a few pictures, “no, this is actually pretty fun.”

“Fun as in… you’d like to do this again sometime?” Lance asked hopefully.

“Yeah…” he gave a half-smile and nudged Lance’s shoulder with his own, “but, next time? I’m driving.”

"That's fair... But we're not done yet, we're doing my name to!" He stepped behind Keith again, taking hold of his arm and gently nudging them both closer to the wall, "come on, I'll show you how to make the letters look more 3-D!"

* * *

A couple hours later, Keith gently slipped open the living room window, pulling himself up on the ledge and rolling in onto the carpet. Just as planned, the lights were out. He’d texted Pidge, and had her make sure the coast was clear. He blinked in the dark, picking himself up off the floor just as the lights flicked on. His heart stopped, gaze shooting to the light switch where Shiro and Matt stood with their arms folded. He huffed in frustration, promising himself revenge on Pidge for this.

Shiro glared at him. They’d found out Keith had snuck out less than twenty minutes after it had happened, when they had gone to check on the kids and Pidge was unable to explain where Keith was. Since then, they had been waiting in the living room for him to get home. He was admittedly excited to play the role of ‘parent waiting to scare their kid coming home past curfew,’ but was mostly upset with both his little siblings. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked.

“My sister is a traitor,” Keith grumbled, shoulders slumping as he trudged across the room.

“That’s it?! Keith...” Shiro shook his head, bringing both his hands up to rub at his temples. He could already feel the headache he was going to get from this conversation. “You snuck out of the house, to see a boy I  _ just _ told you I didn’t want over without supervision. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, wait a minute, Kashi,” Matt jumped in, gently swatting at Shiro’s arm. While the fatherly part of him had been worried, the 'cool' older brother in him had other priorities. He walked over to Keith and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, his serious expression quickly morphing into a devious grin, “how did the date go?”

“Matt, come on!” Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to take a deep breath, count to ten, and wonder why he thought this was going to go any differently than the last time. “We talked about this.”

“We can punish him later!” Matt snipped over his shoulder before eagerly turning back to Keith, “so, did you kiss him? Did he kiss you? Pidge said this is  _ just  _ like Cinderella, did-”

Keith groaned and covered his face with his hands, drowning out the rest of the questions. He weighed over his options. 

Option One: deal with whatever lecture Shiro was going to give him. Likely, an hour long conversation at the minimum. It would probably end up in another week added onto his grounding, along with Stern Fatherly Stares™ for the rest of said grounding. 

Option Two: indulge Matt with gossip. He won’t stop asking questions for at least a full two hours. It would most likely distract from the fact that Keith had done anything wrong, and he would be able to get out of it without extra time added to his already in-effect grounding. However, he would have to field occasional teasing for up to several weeks.

He peaked out between his fingers to look between the two men, Matt still rattling off questions without so much as a gap to breathe let alone receive an answer, and Shiro nearly fuming with his head cradled in his hands.

There was… No good choice.

**Author's Note:**

> What better way to kick off the rest of this story with that awkward "we just met but I like you and I'm not sure if this is a date or just hanging out like you said" get together?  
> As always, thanks for reading! <3 Y'all are more than welcome (and encouraged to) hit me up here or on [Tumblr!](http://lureavi.tumblr.com/)


End file.
